


Love like we’re young

by adela_19



Category: Supernatural
Genre: CEO Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Ferris Wheels, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Lonely Dean, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, but not really, rockstar!castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 17:25:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13722498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adela_19/pseuds/adela_19
Summary: Dean is married. He has been married for some time now to his great love, his college sweetheart. So why after so long does he still get so lonely?Castiel’s famous band is on the road again and Dean is pushed by his outraging emotions to do something he never thought he will: go on a plane. When things don’t turn out as he planned, Dean is left to piece himself back together. Will he have to do that by himself?





	Love like we’re young

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic written for the destiel sweetheart 2018 challenge.  
> I had a blast working on this, especially because it’s way shorter than what i usually write and way fluffier.  
> A HUGE shoutout to the best beta there is on this big ass planet: AngryEgg, my gaysushiroll. This couldn’t have been done without her.  
> I hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

“Make your voice a mail.” Dean had heard that particular sentence for the third time that day. He did not record a message. He clicked the ‘end call’ button and hung his head desperately. There was a stack of files on his desk waiting to be checked out and signed. The beige color of the carton enveloping the bright white papers threatening to spill out, made his anxiety rivet. He left his phone charging and started the work he’d been avoiding since that morning.

He was tired. He hated to see how the passing of the years made him experience more and more the signs of old age. At 35 he felt like 70. Maybe it was his job, the stress, the interminable weariness that layered his bones like a coat. One that he couldn’t shake off, one that slowed him down, that dragged him through a cycle of normal and unhappy. He didn’t want to think of himself like that: unhappy. He wouldn’t have labeled his life as unhappy, he would have labeled it awesome. It was. He made it that way. His dream of becoming a big shot CEO, of having a nice home, great friends and, above all, an incredible husband.

His eyes swept over the photo next to his computer. Castiel’s face was hidden by his “BEST BROTHER” mug (gifted to him by Sam on his 30th birthday with the joke that he needed three decades to actually decide if Dean was worthy of the famed cup) so he moved it a little bit to his right. The picture stood now, uncovered, for all its beauty. He remembered perfectly the moment it was taken. Dean smiled unconsciously to himself.

Charlie had been the one behind the camera. They were at their last college party. Everything was buzzing around them, the people, the loud music and irritating sounds of that freaking ping pong table that was almost always in use. As much as it drove Dean nuts for the first five minutes they were there, he let himself be wrapped up in everything that was Castiel and his friends, forgetting his nostalgic feeling that kept nagging at him for the past few months. Castiel was so relaxed whenever the talk about their future came up. He had it all figured out. Their band was already becoming popular. They had already had a couple of concerts and their band: “The fallen ones”, was on the rise. Dean didn’t know anything. He had the degrees and everything he needed for a great bright future. He just needed to be able to picture it. The sky was full of stars and Castiel was whining that it was going to rain, “for the stars announced it”. Dean was urging him to stop being ‘a hippie’ and enjoy their splendor. He kissed him sweetly, just a peck on the mouth really, simple yet powerful. He remembers the blue, shining eyes that struck him when they parted – a promise for later. Dean’s smile was to be compared with one of a drugged person, of a content individual. That was the moment when the camera’s intrusive light announced them of their friend’s presence. She looked at the picture and squealed with joy saying it was the cutest picture she could have had the luck to take and then Dean begged her to stop with the photos while Cas was making strange faces at the camera that enticed Charlie to take even more pics of ‘the gayest couple on earth’. Playing his role, Dean hid his face in his palms looking as embarrassed as he could while Castiel kept making those funny faces that Charlie just found hilarious. That picture is stashed safely in his husband’s wallet. At their wedding they were both given framed photos, but as Cas was almost always on the run, he decided he needed it to be closer to him, to be transportable.

Castiel. Beautiful, talented Castiel. A grin took over Dean’s face. He could not explain himself, how he ended up being married to the love of his life, but he was most grateful. The first time he had seen him they were in English Lit and, as the accommodation for the new kid goes, he was not very popular. Anxious and weary of yet another beginning he stepped into the class looking for a seat, maybe, if he were lucky, maybe an empty bench so he could mind his own business. He was in the middle of his attack plan when a voice like gravel invited him to sit down and he did. Castiel’s perfect features were the first ones to make him question who the hell was this, his knowledge and great taste in books was the detail that made him want to know him better and, in the end, his amazing personality was what made him fall for his husband little by little and then he was trapped in a loving relation with the best man on earth.

He fingered his ring with a melancholy that settled deep in his heart.

Three more reports on their latest meeting, one work report that was supposed to show progress but failed greatly, and five break permissions. Dean sighed heavily. Why did these people need so much time off? Dean was always working. If it weren’t for the company being closed on Sunday, he would be there the whole week, 12 to 16 hours a day, putting his brain muscles to work. He massaged his forehead absently as to scare off the oncoming headache. No chance. Nobody payed him anymore respect for being here, no one raised his salary, which was already consistent, no one needed him to be here, yet he always came and worked his ass of. Anything was better than being alone at home. Cas was on tour again with his band. Dean loved seeing him perform, loved hearing his voice that sparked a kind of fondness for his lover. He had been watching videos posted by fans of him singing his heart out in Chicago, lately. It was safe to say Dean watched and then rewatched them all. He was proud and so happy for his amazing, all-deserving partner.

He was also very lonely. He preferred drowning in work and tiring himself out as much as he could so when Castiel was away he didn’t have to think about it and automatically become upset. The silence that took his place when he was on tour switched between being deafening and being maddening.

Castiel had been gone for three months and it was supposed to be the last tour they had this year. In 28 days Castiel was supposed to come back home, to Dean. He missed his laugh, his smell, his ruffled hair in the morning and cerulean blue eyes. With their busy schedules they were barely talking to each other, barely getting each other on the phone and Skype was no longer an option. Even when they talked, one of them would be too tired or too distracted to keep up the talk so the conversation would be cut short. Dean was worried for them. It was a thought that constantly swam at the back of his mind, making him ask himself more questions than he ever felt were needed. Did Cas miss him? If so, why wasn’t he calling more or, at least, pick up? Was he better off without Dean? Had he forgotten him, while in the arms of so many fans? Those were the absurd but still present questions. Was he doing something wrong? Should he have called more? Should he have called less?

If he had the possibility, Dean would have went to see him right that instant, would have shortened those 28 days of being away from his husband.

He could do that though… He doubted anyone upstairs would deny him taking three days for himself under ‘family urgencies’. It was urgent that he saw his husband right away, so he wouldn’t have been lying,not exactly. He bit his lip unsurely. 

Would he be able to handle the work that piled after three days of absence? He would. He would be. Maybe he should have run his bright idea by Castiel first so he wouldn’t drop in at a bad moment. He dialed Cas’ number again and the same recorded message reached his ears.

A sudden knock on the door put him out of his reverie. Alfie first pushed his head through the door opening and then, tentatively, his whole body.

“What’s up?” Dean greeted cheerfully. The idea had already been raising his spirit.

“Sir, I was wondering if I could maybe, with your permission, t-take a free day on Friday. I have this urgency in the family and I am in need of - ”

“Say no more.” Dean stopped him. He stood up and signed his own ‘permission slip’, followed by Alfie’s. Then he put his jacket on and, sprang out of the office, grabbing his rucksack on the way.

“Leave those with Alice. She can get them to Adler.”

The elevator doors were closing up on a very confused Alfie and Dean’s smile got even bigger. Castiel wasn’t the only spontaneous one. Dean was going to make sure tolet him know.

***

“The ticket has been purchased.”

“I cannot believe you. Dean Winchester. The most romantic man on planet earth,” screamed Charlie over the line, her clapping accompanying her squeals.

“Ok, let’s not make a big deal out of this,” Dean laughed to himself as he searched for his travel bag.

“My gay, gay friend.”

“Hey!” 

“Gay as in happy,” Defended Charlie. “It is a big deal though. How many tours has Cas had?”

“A lot,” Dean sighed.

“Exactly. You are finally visiting, Dean. I cannot get for the life of it why now, but I’m glad it’s finally happening.”

“I’m staying for three days, Charlie. It’s not that much.”

“Can you stop ruining your own fun?! You’re so annoying. Just admit you are excited because you miss your husband like crazy but never had the balls to follow him.”

“It’s not like that. I had work. I still have a lot of work to do.”

“So why now? Why aren’t you staying for work?” she emphasized the word ‘work’ with a mocking undertone.

“I achieved a high enough position and filled enough extra hours for them to let me go a couple of days. I’m using my loyalty to that company to my advantage.” 

Charlie did not respond. She was still listening to him, her puffs of breath over the line, assuring him of that. 

“I love him and I miss him. I need to see him,” Dean acquiesced.

“That’s right, my friend. Go get your man.”

“If I don’t die on that plane, I will.”

“Please leave your anxiety at home. We do not want a buzz kill.”

“That we do not want,” agreed Dean.

“Glad we settled that. Say hi to Dorothy for me.”

“Will do. Keep me posted, ok?”

“You know it!”

In less than an hour, his tickets were printed and his bag was made. He called Michael, the band’s guitarist, for the last bit of information he needed to surprise his husband and then printed his backstage pass and put it away with the flight tickets. His heart was nearly beating out his chest with joy and uncertainty, but he did not turn back.

***

The flight was something of horror. The nail shaped marks on the armrests were enough to explain the thrill that Dean had. The flight itself was not long or bumpy, for that matter, just Dean’s imminent fear of crashing and burning spiked his anxiety to a level where even half asleep he was uncomfortable. The thought of Cas and him finally meeting got him through. Barely.

He was relieved to find himself on the ground, in one piece. After replaying the fright he experience during his amazing flight three more times in his head, he went outside and battled other rushing customers for a taxi. The address was on a slip of paper tucked safely in his breast pocket. The driver showed complete indifference to Dean’s excitement, but he let it pass and actually left a tip. He checked in at the hotel Castiel was staying and he tried to get a room remotely close to his husband’s, using his gay old charms to seduce a fairly young woman to take care of his request. He left his baggage there and freshened up a bit, deciding, finally to change his clothes and let loose. He changed his trousers for a pair of blue jeans and his white shirt for a short sleeved black t-shirt, over which he put on a red flannel. He carried his blue jacket in case the weather turned bad. He had checked the weather three times, but you can never be sure enough.

If he thought that the flight was an anxiety fest, the cab ride to the actual place of their concert was pure torture of his brain on his brain! He got out and took a few seconds to just watch the enormous building – some kind of pub. There was no line of people outside, which meant the party was being held inside. Dean stepped through easily and when he let the security know who he actually was, he was not only let in, but led to the back of the stage. He had the best view of the scene and he couldn’t be happier as he saw Castiel dancing around shamelessly and singing his lungs out in a show of pure energy. The concert was supposed to end in approximately half an hour and Dean made sure he would be there, that he would be the first thing that Castiel saw when he finally got off the stage.

He watched it all in awed silence. The group was coordinated like a whole person. He found that the beauty of the concert, of the group, of Castiel was diminished by lousy phone-cameras and amateur videos. He saw it right there, the grandeur of Castiel’s dream and beauty of his performance, when he gave everything just to offer the best experience. The warm soul that embraced Dean’s person since their first meeting, was blinding on the stage. Dean found himself staring, in awe, at his husband, the love of his life. The colorful lights flashed all over his body, every detail of his muscled back showing through his thin grey t-shirt. Dean felt himself float, just like the time he saw him in the class, the first time they went out, the time he was proposed to, seeing Castiel on one knee in front of him, his eyes shiny and so hopeful. It was everything Dean wanted from life.

Excitement was mirrored in Dean’s tight stance, his ever racing heart, his cracking knuckles and lip bites. Their last song started and Castiel was giving his all, taking the highest notes, yet lowering his voice showing how gravely it could become and still keeping a serene atmosphere, moving his body slowly, allowing the public to take a look at the real Castiel, a lover and an artist, warm and also scarred. Everything that Cas was, was revealed in his interpretation of the song and, to Dean’s skillful eye in the art of his husband, it was a perfect performance. The pain of not having Castiel close, of not waking up next to him, of not talking to him sometimes for entire days for the better part of the year was forgotten, if not erased, when he was reminded of the love and interest with which Castiel was doing his job. “I love you,” Dean repeated in his mind like a mantra. The song ended with Michael’s skillful accords and then, while the crowd cheered with intensity, they took their leave, Castiel taking the time to thank everyone and assure the fans, on the behalf of everyone, that they were thrilled to be there and that they were grateful for doing what they loved.

Balthazar was the first to step out from behind the drums and then Michael and Cain put their guitars down, just as Rachel unplugged her keyboard. Castiel took his bow and turned around to leave the stage. Dean had forgotten that he wasn’t actually in the audience with the rest of the crazed fans so when Castiel’s eyes landed on him, he was as unprepared as ever. His heart did two freaking black-flips before threatening to jump out of him and go hug Castiel itself. Luckily, Castiel didn’t leave him any choice in the course his actions, but he did get three seconds in which he waved rather awkwardly at the love of his life.

The demonstration of the perfect puzzle that they were was when, Castiel, shaking with excitement, practically ran off stage and embraced Dean with the force of thunder and unshakable love. The perfect, reasonable thing to do at a long awaited reunion, of course, right after the awkward waving. Leaving Dean’s clumsiness and his inability to face high pressure moments, he was finally in the arms of his beloved and it was just what he wanted, what he imagined it would feel like whenever he stayed up at night thinking about coming home again in Castiel’s arms. Like two pieces that complete each other perfectly, they came together. Dean breathed in the scent of leather and mint with a thin layer of sweat and found himself already relaxing.

“I love you. I missed you,” Castile whispered into his ear and he felt his knees already buckle under him, threatening to give out under the weight of his big, fat heart.

“So did I,” Dean assured him as he gave an additional squeeze to the already too tight hug. They pulled back at the same time and, found themselves speechless, staring at each other after so much time apart. He was drowning in those shiny ocean blue eyes of his. He reached for Cas’ face and caressed his scruffy cheek.

“I can’t believe you’re here, Dean,” Castiel said, breathlessly.

“I can’t believe it either.” Castiel pulled him in for another short, but breathtaking hug. Dean shook himself and realized that all those thoughts crammed up in his head needed to be said out loud. At least, some of them. “You were amazing. So good.”

“I… Thank you. I loved it. This city is one of my favorites. Even more, now, that you’re here.” Dean only nodded. “Come on,” Castiel urged him. “Let’s get my stuff and then you can tell me all about your spontaneous decision to come and visit your amazing husband. How did you even do it? Where are you staying?”

“Your hotel.”

“With my freaking help.” A voice distracted them both from staring at each other like long lost lovers. They turned to see Michael coming their way, his over expressive nature on flick.

“He was helpful, I’ll admit,” Dean grinned.

“Well, it’s good to know he has some kind of use.” Castiel chuckled.

“It did come as a shock to me also,” Dean joined. They both laughed, while Michael kept throwing offended glances to them and everyone in his field of view. He punched Castiel lightly in the shoulder and turned his frown into a toothy smile. Castiel returned the grin and they kept messing with each other until Michael asked out of nowhere.

“So what are you guys doing?”

“We’re not sure yet,” Dean explained while Castiel gave him the report of their new found activity.

“We’re gonna go somewhere to eat,” he said, kissing Dean’s cheek.

“Cool. We’ll tag along,” Michael said excitedly.

“Great. Meet us in front,” Castiel responded ignorant to Dean’s reluctance to share Castiel already. Cas intertwined his fingers with Dean’s and dragged him along to his room. Dean ignored his uneasy feelings and put them on tiredness and an excessive stomach butterfly case and let himself be swept away by his husband.

***

The dinner was anything but relaxing. It was an anxiety fest for Dean, to be completely fair. The cameras followed them since they left the concert to the restaurant and decided to place themselves right outside so they could be the first ones to report what kind of water “The fallen ones” like to drink after their performance. The new scoop! Not to mention, the occasional fangirls or fanboys, just fans really, that asked for pictures and autographs and Castiel, who was a dear, always complied and never complained, not even when some of them proved to be really touchy and way too feely. Castiel kept his respectful distance but Dean couldn’t help but think how many people get to touch Castiel everyday and to talk to him without Dean even knowing, without Dean being there. He chastised himself on the ground that he was acting ridiculous. He was supposed to be overwhelmed with contempt and excitement at finally being with his husband. They were also supposed to be alone. Dean found it crowding and draining, even more tiring than his day to day files and conferences. He understood perfectly how Castiel must have felt. He adored how energetic and free spirited he was compared to Dean’s uptight, strict demeanor. When he actually got to sit down, he made casual conversation with his friends while resting his palm on Dean’s knee. He approached him, now and then, and whispered in his ear anything from “I love you.” to “I once ate a tuna casserole, I cannot understand how you can ingest that.”. they shared stories and opinions and merely talked. Dean wanted to blend into the picture but he still felt on the outside of things. He couldn’t compare a crazy fan attack to a missing report that turned his whole department upside down. Nonetheless, he smiled and approved of everything that was being discussed. Castiel had his moments when he turned to Dean and talked expressly to him and Dean found that, being so far away from each other, didn’t change Cas at all. At this relieving thought, Dean smiled. 

When they reached the hotel, Castiel asked him why he had taken another room, when Castiel didn’t share his with anyone.

“I didn’t want to impose. Plus I had some bags. I didn’t want to crowd your room.”

“Nonsense,” Castiel waved him off. “You can leave those bags in your room, but your sleeping right next to me.” He decided, pulling Dean in for a slow, gentle kiss. Dean smiled at Castiel’s affections. “You’re here three days. I’ll go insane, if I can’t have you at least now. I missed you, Dean.”

“I know. I missed you too,” Dean said, still in Castiel’s arms, tracing the line of his mouth. Castiel gave him another peck, before sliding the cartel and letting them inside, holding Dean’s hand in his.

“Wait.” 

Dean stopped before entering.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to go to my room.”

“Why? Dean, there’s no problem if you sleep here with me. I want you to,” Cas assured him, still aware of how often Dean was used to question himself.  
“Thank you for the assurance, but I need to get my pajamas and my toothbrush.”

“You can sleep naked.”

“I can,” Dean pondered for a second. “But that toothbrush cannot remain in my room. I need it tonight and tomorrow morning.” Castiel grinned and rolled his eyes, exasperated.

“Health freak,” he muttered, letting Dean go.

“Be back in a jiffy,” Dean called and Castiel stood in front of his door, not letting it close, watching Dean walk away.

It took Dean two minutes to find his beloved hygiene accessory and when he got out of his room, Castiel was still there watching out for Dean.

Dean walked slowly, unbothered by Castiel’s fiery eyes. When he got a bit closer to reaching his husband he ran the last three steps, jumping in Cas’ arms. Cas caught him and kissed him fiercely, carrying him into his room and shutting the room with his leg.

“Beloved clean freak,” Castiel whispered between dirty kisses. Dean was on fire with love and anticipation for what these kisses announced there was to come.

“Let me show you how devoted I can be to my plan.”

“I like how that sounds,” Castiel responded, breathlessly. Dean was overcome with all the need and want for this one person over the course of three months, every moment he wished Castiel would be there came rushing back fueling Dean’s necessity to be as close to Castiel as he could.

Castiel carried Dean, as they kissed passionately, and laid him on the bed gently, following right after and draping himself over him, enveloping him in his warmth and giving Dean a sense of security that felt by now like something completely new. Castiel kissed him over and over again, until his lips were numb and then kissed the corner of his lip, then his cheek, his jaw, his neck, pausing now and then to leave crimson-purple marks all over his hot skin. Dean’s hands flew to Castiel’s back, holding on for dear life, occasionally running his hands through his eternal bed hair.

“Don’t stop.” Dean urged him.

“I wasn’t planning to, sweetheart. Keep making those sounds for me.” He said as he went back to biting his neck and punching a whine right out of Dean’s throat. He was too hot. He needed to get out of those clothes, before he self-combusted.

“Clothes off,” Dean whispered.

“So impatient. I love it,” He mumbled as hot puffs of breath came in contact with Dean’s ear, right before he bit it sensually, slowly. Dean arched off the bed in a fit of pleasure.

“Please,” he begged, pathetically.

“If you ask so nicely, then –” A series of rapid knocks disrupted them. Dean let out an inhuman sound at the frustration of not being left alone even in Castiel’s room.

“I’m sorry. I’m going to see what’s going on. I’ll be right back,” he said, winking and then Castiel slid out of bed and Dean felt instantly way too cold. As he put himself together, he heard Castiel exasperated sigh.

“What is it that you require, Michael?”

“Rachel and Balthazar are having yet another fight regarding some of your new songs. I personally think neither of them got it right. It’s so hard to read your writing, Cas. Please come honour us with your presence and clear out our differences,” Dean heard Michael's rather bored voice.

“At one in the morning?”

“Art does not sleep, Castiel.”

“I’ll be back in a second.” Castiel came to kiss Dean one more time – a promise for later, and then he and Michael were out the door. Dean was left alone in the middle of a bed too big for just one. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine himself back home, in their own bedroom. He propped himself on the wall and thought about the day he had had. It certainly hasn’t been a mistake coming here. Castiel missed him just as much as he missed Castiel and it sparked whole ass fireworks in Dean’s heart, but still Castiel had to work and Dean couldn’t get in the way. From what Castiel had told him they had a small gig tomorrow, at a bar, more of a gift for one of Balthazar’s old friends and then the day after that, they had a concert with an audience a bit bigger than the one from today, well, technically, from yesterday. Then it was Dean’s departure day. He let his eyes sweep over the room and he saw his beloved toothbrush discarded on the bed in a far off corner, he reached for it desperately and took it to safety, to the bathroom.

***

The light shone dimly through the beige curtains, gently tickling Dean’s heavy eyelids open. He took a couple of seconds to gather his surroundings and then he remembered – Cas. He shot up, but the room was empty, save for a note placed on Castiel’s side of bed. It was a bit rumpled, probably from Dean’s restless sleep.

You were asleep when I returned. I missed your snores. Had to get an early start today. If you wake up before 10, we will be down, at the buffet, if not you can find us in the rehearsal room A3, third floor. Excited to spend the day together.  
Love, Cas

 

Dean blew it. Fuck his tiredness. He was supposed to spend his time with Cas, not sleeping, like an idiot. He could’ve slept at home just the same. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. He checked the clock. 10:28. Amazing. He set down the note and got out of bed. He was only in his shirt and boxers, which meant Castiel came back and found him sleeping like the dumbass he is and then helped him make himself comfortable. Even if Dean had not been aware of it, they had slept in the same bed and that was enough to bring a gummy smile on Dean’s face. He took his toothbrush and left Castiel’s room to go get a change of clothes. He didn’t go to breakfast. His stomach wasn’t that settled, so he avoided everything that even resembled food for a glass of water. Plus, he was over excited to see Castiel rehearse.

He walked eagerly through the hotel, smiling at everyone that passed him by. Even if last night and this morning did not go as planned, he had two almost full days to make up for the slow start. He smiled at his foolish self for being so paranoid about Castiel, thinking that he would slow him down, that his presence maybe wasn’t wanted. Castiel wanted him here. He had his attention. As much as he didn’t even want to ask himself that question. He had no doubt that Castiel still loved him.

He pushed the doors open of the rehearsal room. It wasn’t as spacious as he had expected, but there was a wooden scene that was also a bit too tiny with all their instruments taking up a bunch of needed space, restricting Castiel's energetic stage behavior a bit too much. There were some chairs scattered all over the room in no particular order. They were all gathered in a circle in the middle of the scene by Balthazar’s drums, looking over some papers. Michael was standing next to Cas, whispering something in ear and squeezing his shoulder rather fondly. Castiel’s gentle laugh resounded off the walls and Dean remained by the door, stopped in his tracks by the intimacy displayed by Michael. As if on queue, Mihael looked over Castiel’s shoulder right into Dean’s eyes and stepped away as if burned. Castiel looked at him confused and Michael said something before Castiel turned to see Dean. Castiel’s smile at seeing his husband was radiant and natural. Dean’s heart was eased a bit by the wild thoughts that fueled his erratic beating.

Castiel sprang off stage and ran to Dean, while all Dean could do was stand there and wait for Castiel to come to him. Everything was made up by his fearful self, by his low esteem that made him question almost everything in this freaking life. He cursed himself for having such a weak character.  
Castiel hugged him tightly and kissed him deeply, expressing how much he had missed Dean in a very physical way. Dean reciprocated, after turning his brain on after a couple of seconds of being made of stone.

“Did you sleep well? I had a wonderful night, knowing you were there, beside me.” Castiel grinned and Dean found him beautiful, he was reminded again and again how stunning his husband truly was.

“I did too.” Dean lied. Dean’s tiredness had no place in this conversation. There was no rain by the name of Dean Winchester that was going to ruin Castiel’s sun, no sir.

“We are going to rehearse for a couple more hours, ‘till Michael relearns how to use that guitar,” Castiel joked.

“Fuck you, man,” came an offended shout from the stage, but Castiel just turned back to look at him and wink, at which point, Dean was battling his brain to stay calm, not jump to conclusions. Band mates, friends were supposed to be silly and touchy and feely. Dean watched their inquiry silently.

“Then I can take you out on a date. I know this really classy place.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Dean said, smiling.

“Great.” Castiel pecked him on the cheek and turned back to his band. Dean wished him luck and exited the room, saying that he had to make some calls. Needless to say, no calls were made. Dean stayed in his room. He was on the balcony, watching people run around, everyone rushing to their own business. There were some children in colorful clothes playing around and staying in the way of some rather stressed adults. Dean made stories about every person that peaked his interest, like how the sharp looking man was late to a meeting, but what he didn’t know was that he had the wrong day and the supposed meeting was next week, so he would get to work sweaty and tired only to find out he had a night shift and woke up early and ran for exactly nothing. It was stupid, but it passed the time. It also prevented him from thinking about Castiel, more importantly about Castiel and Michael. He was chastising himself for the heavy heart he got over a little touch, but it all added up. Michael popping every single time they were about to be alone, Michael brushing Castiel’s hand accidentally at dinner, more than one time, Michael coming in the middle of the night and taking Castiel away on a supposed emergency, leaving Dean all alone. That was his brain, putting everything back to back. His heart was horrified at how truly protective and suffocating could Dean be – to make up such a story from just little touches was something of a true talent. Why waste his time in a company? He should be a writer! How could he come here for Castiel and then start making up theories, blaming Castiel for Deans' insecurities. What kind of sad excuse for a husband does that? His eyes stung, but he pushed the heels of palms into his eyes to stop the tears.

He returned inside, only to trip over one of Castiel’s pair of jeans thrown on the floor. Last night he was way to absorbed by their extracurricular activities to lecture Cas on his complete lack of organization. Shaking his head at the thought of his unreservedly disorganized husband, he picked up the jeans and threw them on the bed. Castiel had been there for three days, but how he managed to almost cover the floor in nothings was beyond Dean’s understanding. He got to work. The cleaning spree was more for himself. Cleaning helped put his thoughts in order and also not die of a heart attack when he stared for more than two seconds at the floor. Castiel's exasperated voice, when he called him a neat freak, burst up in his mind and he laughed shortly. In three hours, everything was as clean as it could be. The clothes were either hanged, packed or put away in a plastic bag (those were the ones that needed immediate washing), there was no trace of dust ever having been in that room, the bed was made and pillows were fluffed. The bathroom was clean also, every hygiene product stacked nicely on the shelf or put away in Castiel’s bag that was put in one of the suitcases stacked in the closet. It was past lunch time and Castiel still hadn’t called. Then his phone started ringing and as excited as Dean was too pick up, the caller ID announced that Sam was the one on the other end of the line. He answered, rather disappointed.

“Oh, is your visit going that well? Charlie told me about your spontaneous trip,” came Sam’s cheerful reply.

“It’s going.”

“You sound disappointed,” Sam said, dropping his jolly act.

“It’s going great, Sam,” Dean assured him. “Now, what’s up?”

“Nothing. One cannot check on his lawyer?”

“I don’t know if one can, but I do know that one big shot lawyer should do it more often.”

“I know, Dean. I’m sorry for not calling these past months. I’ve just been crazy with work and the kids and-“ but Dean cut him short.

“Hey, there’s no need to apologize. I get it, believe me, I do. It’s stressful. I should know.”

“It is.” There a few moments of silence when Dean started pacing around the room. “You don’t sound that good, though. How are you really doing?”

“I’m fine, man. I am,” he said, pacing even faster. He made the tour of the room a couple of times, before hitting his foot on the sharp wooden corner of the bed. He cursed to himself and plopped on the bed.

“If you say so. How’s Cas?”  
“He’s great. He’s in great shape, does what he loves. Couldn’t be happier about,” he leaned down to check out his hurting fingers.

“Tell him to call sometimes.”

“You know how it is, what will all this craziness,” Dean started defending him when he also wanted Castiel to call more. His heart was starting to lose the battle. “Fans, band, cameras everywhere. I sometimes wonder how he can do it.” His sight was distracted by a piece of paper under Castiel’s nightstand. He snatched it quickly, thinking he missed some trash, but one closer look proved something to be written on it.

Thank you for letting me be your inspiration. – Michael.

Dean’s blood ran cold.

“He wanted this. This was his dream. Since we met him. Like you’ve said – it’s what he loves.”

“It it,” Dean agreed, distracted by the note.

“I know it’s been hard for you at home, alone.”

“How intuitive, Samuel,” he joked.

“Don’t call me that,” he responded. His phone vibrated shortly three times which meant that he had an incoming call. It was Cas.

“Hey, Sam. I’m going to have to call you back. Cas is calling me.”

“Sure. Go be with your husband,” he ended the call with Sam and took the one with Cas. He was still holding the paper in his hands.

“Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing?” Came Cas’ soft voice over the line.

“I’m killing time,” answered Dean.

 

“Listen. I know I’ve said that we’ll go later to lunch, but Bella called and said that she had already scheduled a couple of interviews and that we can’t bail. I promise I won’t miss dinner.”

“It’s fine,” Dean strained. “You go. I’ll see what I can do,” Dean fought his trembling voice.

“I’m really sorry. I wish I could be there, right next to you.”

“Go, Castiel.” He said. And then, whispering. “Please, go.”

“I’ll call you when I’m done. I love you.”

“You too,” Dean responded, before ending the call. As much as he wanted, he couldn’t reign in his anger and his despair at finding this out. He wanted to stop thinking about it, stop jumping to conclusions and just talk it out, like adults. His heart was breaking little by little and the sting in his eyes couldn’t be ignored no more, so he let the tears roll off his heated cheeks before brushing away in disgust at himself. He threw away the note and walked out of the room.

Castiel wasn’t doing anything. He wasn’t. There was a perfect explanation that Dean was going to get over a nice dinner, where Castiel was going to clarify this big misunderstanding. He did not want to overthink it anymore. He hated when he got like this. It made him feel like when he was little – helpless and unimportant. He took his coat and took a walk around the hotel, calming himself, thinking about all the work that must’ve piled up in his absence and how he’ll have to put in some extra hours when he came back. He found himself wondering in parts of the city he did not know, lost in his thoughts, he distanced himself more and more from the hotel, but he kept walking until day turned to night and the cold, chilly air started biting into his skin.

It took him some time but he eventually he made it back to the hotel. He found that he did overthink it, everything, to be clearer. He overthought everything. He took the elevator in silence. He refused to look at himself in the mirrors of the lift so he starred exclusively at his feet. The doors finally opened at his floor and he got out. The other elevator opened at the same floor and Dean wanted to walk faster and be ahead so he could shut himself quietly in his room. What awaited him in the other elevator was something that left Dean powerless completely. Castiel was propped against the wall, holding himself on the support bar while his lips were crashed by Michael’s. Dean remained breathless. Everything that he had been stowing away for so many days crashed back onto him. Castiel pushed Michael away, unaware of Dean’s shocked presence, and punched him with such a force that Michael staggered back and when he hit the wall of the elevator he slid on the ground, partly conscious.

“Cas,” he whispered. Castiel looked up from his hurt bandmate. His mouth dropped at seeing Dean standing right there.

“Dean,” he called, but Dean couldn’t stand anymore. Hot tears slid down his cold cheeks. He was so angry with himself, so humiliated. He was sick with the weakness he was showing. Castiel reached out for him, but Dean walked away without a word. He walked straight to his room, not having the strength to confront Castiel. He reached his bathroom just in time to empty the contents of his stomach that haven’t already made it to the digestion process. The knocking on the door was almost immediate.

“Dean!” a pause. “Please. Open up.”  
As much as Dean wanted to honor him with his radiating presence, he was toilet bound.  
“Dean. I need you to talk to me.”

Castiel stood there the whole time Dean vomited and remained on the other side of the door, while Dean let those damned persistent tears fall from his tears. Every tear that fell into his lap felt like a piece of his heart being torn away. He put his hand over his heart, trying to make it settle. His right mind told him, that it wasn’t exactly what he thought was happening and it also wasn’t exactly nothing. After quiet some time, in which his silent cry became a silent sob, he realized Michael kissing Castiel wasn’t why he was crying. At least, it wasn’t the only thing he was crying about. Months of loneliness will do that to you, he thought to himself. When the sobs stopped, his tears dried and his whole being became numb, he gathered himself off the bathroom floor and opened the door just to prove to himself Castiel had given up on reaching him and left.

Castiel was sitting down, leaning on Dean’s door and so when Dean opened it Castiel sprang to his feet. He looked Dean over, his warm smile becoming a concerned frown.

“I am so sorry,” Castiel said. Dean looked at him in earnest and saw – Cas. His beloved husband, his better half, his everything. If he thought his tears were over, he was dead wrong. The tears were right on time.

“Dean,” Castiel called. Hopelessly in love, Dean threw himself at Castiel. Castiel caught him and took his weight all on himself for Dean’s legs gave out under him.

“I think I’m falling apart,” Dean whispered through tears that choked him before letting the tiredness overtake him.

***

The first thing he felt when he came to were deft, long fingers going gently through his hair. He did not open his eyes when he started hearing voices, making up words, actually understanding the meaning of them.

“You know how he gets.”

“I don’t care how he gets, Balth. I’m sick of it,” came Castiel’s whisper.

“I get you. It is disgusting.”

“Disgusting doesn’t even begin to cover it. We’ve talked about it before. I don’t understand why he would keep on.”

“At least he didn’t pull the note prank.”

“What?”

“You know, he comes in, scribbles some dumbass message, layered with erotic sublayers and hides it somewhere for you to find. You haven’t found anything so that’s good, I believe.”

“My room’s a mess, Balth. Even if I wanted to find it, I couldn’t.”

“Apparently, you’ve changed your ways. It’s cleaner than it has been in a long time. Trying to impress Sleeping Beauty.”

“No, he was the one that cleaned it in our absence. My beloved neat freak.” There was a pause, that Dean interpreted as Castiel watching him sleep. His heart swelled in his chest, only to deflate at the thought of Castiel being kissed by someone else. He showed no signs of waking up. “He knows I’m as disorganized as they come.”

“You still love him,” Balthazar whispered, fondness of his high school friend clear in his voice.

“He’s my husband. My everything. I’d be so lost without him, Balthazar. I can’t lose him. I cannot.”

“I knew it was all bullshit,” Balthazar said, more to himself, as he cursed.

“Excuse me?” Castiel raised his voice and put his arms around Dean, holding his supposedly sleeping form as close to himself as he could. Dean’s head was propped on Castiel’s leg and was turned with his back to Balthazar.

“Michael has this theory that your marriage is on the verge of death. That you are getting old and you need a refresher. A refresher that you will, of course find in his opened arms.”

“I’m done.”

“Castiel,” Balthazar chastised.

“I can’t sit around while he spreads nonsense about my relationship with the man I love. Everything’s ok.”

“Is it?”

“Don’t.”

“Dean wouldn’t have passed out from crying if everything would’ve been fine, Castiel. It’s time you stop lying to yourself and make a decision.”  
“I need to fix it.” Understanding seemed to dawn on Castiel, even if he didn't seem to know what required fixing.

“You do that.” The voice were starting to fade away from him. As much as he fought himself to stay awake, he was taken back by a dreamless, restless sleep. What worried him the most was that his heart had not eased at all even after hearing Castiel’s love did not vanish. He went back to sleep with a heavy heart and heavy thoughts.

When he came to again, it was still dark outside and the nightstand clock showed that it 4:36 AM. Dean realized that everything was quiet and that he was no longer sleeping on Castiel’s leg, but on an actual pillow. He sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Another restless sleep. His eyes were still stinging and the headache was in full force. He looked around, but was only able to tell apart faint shapes and lines in the darkness. The only thing that broke the depressing and quiet atmosphere was Castiel’s even breaths. He was sleeping on his side of the bed, facing Dean and resting his head on his hands in a prayer like position. He looked at peace. A peace that Dean disturbed. He held his head in his hands.

Everything was ok. It had been fine for a while, for seven years to be exact. Castiel went on tours. It happened and he always came back. This time was different. This time Dean decided to come after him and ruined everything in his pathetic neediness. Why did he have to come? Was he that weak that he couldn’t handle it on his own? Was he in serious need of someone to hold his hand? Why did he have to destroy everything? He only made it harder on Castiel. The last thing that he needed was a snotty husband showing up on his doorstep requesting emergency cuddles just because he was incapable of taking care of himself.  
He didn’t have to do much. Go to work and be a supportive husband and he couldn’t manage that. He only slowed him down. Castiel was better off. He ignored the jealousy, the hurt, the loneliness and got out bed carefully as not to wake him up. On one hand he was furious about all the situation Michael caused and his throat burned and his eyes stung at the thought of Cas with anyone but himself, but at the same time, he was too weak, a bit too broken to stay around and drag his husband down with him. Castiel had been embarrassed enough. He needed to sort it out with himself. He had to go home.  
***

The bags were packed and the plane ticket had been changed for today at 11AM. Unfortunately it was still 6 in the morning and Dean was as confused as ever. He still couldn’t say where all his vendetta came from but he wanted everything back to how it was before he came. Thoughts swirled in his head like unfinished threads of a poor old shirt. He wanted Castiel happy. He also wanted an explanation but thought he did not deserve one. That is exactly why he found himself at six in the morning on a bench right across the street from Cas’ hotel.

“Dean,” a voice called after him. He turned around slowly, even if he recognized the voice from a thousand. “What are you doing?” inquired Castiel as he sat down next to Dean. Dean could barely look him in the eyes.

“I’m leaving. I was wrong coming here.”

“What?” Castiel looked shocked. He hated being an even bigger inconvenience but Castiel was soon to realize he was better off. “Why? You still have a whole day left.”

“I don’t think you need to ask.” That left Castiel pondering a bit.

“I am sorry for what I have put you through, Dean. You have to know that I love you. I would never hurt you intentionally.” Dean flinched as if burned.

“I know.”

“You do?” Castiel asked.

“I know you, Cas. There not one bad bone in your body. You are too good to want to hurt me. Even me.”

“What do you mean even you?” Dean did not respond, but chose to analyze the interesting blades of grass being blown away by a chill September air. “Dean. Whatever is happening, whatever you are feeling. Please talk to me.”

“I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have come after you.”

“Don’t say that. I am so glad you came. You made these couple of days so much better for me.” Dean snorted in disbelief. That was ridiculous. All he did was cause trouble and make scenes and be an all around distraction for Castiel who was in the middle of a goddamn tour, for fuck’s sake!

“Please, Dean. Talk to me. You’re not leaving here without an explanation. I have already 26 days more of being away from you. They’d be even harder like this. If I know you leave here, as you are right now, I couldn’t –“

“We’ll see each other home. Don’t worry.”

“I want to worry. What happened last night was a scare. And a wake up call. Things aren’t going so well, are they?” Dean shook his head, proving yet again weak in the face of Castiel’s gentleness.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” An innocent little word, such as ‘sweetheart’ was what did it, what opened the floodgates. The first tear fell completely unannounced and Dean brushed it off, annoyed at himself.

“I miss you,” Dean whispered.

“I’m here.” Dean only shook his head.

“Not really, you’re not.” He felt his bottom lip start to tremble and he bit it in a weak attempt at stopping it. “I call, but you don’t pick up. I go to bed and you’re not there. I eat breakfast pancakes, but I can never make them the way you do. I come home and everything is just so-“ he sniffled, trying to save as little of dignity as he had left. “ quiet. I just wanted, I needed to see you, but I made the wrong decision. I came here, wanting everything to be ok, for us to be together, but you have a job to do. You’re busy and I can finally see I am only dragging you down. With me. Which is something I never wanted to do, Cas. Not to you. I love you and I don’t want to cause you any more troubles.” Castiel took Dean’s head in his palms and caressed his wet cheeks with a tenderness of old lovers.

“How can you speak like that? You are my everything, Dean. You have the power to make everything better for me. You have been neglected for too long and that’s on me. I will take care of Michael. I will make sure nothing like what he did happens again. You, Dean, you are the only thing that gets me through not seeing you.” He smiled and his eyes became glassy. “You are so good. Holding up for the both of us. The thought of coming back to you is the only thing that can somewhat settle the pain of being away from you. I love you. Dean, I love you.”

“Castiel.”

“Dean, believe me. Please. Believe that I love you.”

“Cas. Castiel. You don’t understand. I miss you too much. To a point where I am consumed by it, a point where I’m losing myself in the thought of you. With every minute I just miss you more and then I come here and all I want is for us to be ok. We’re not. I’m not. I’m losing it. I don’t want you to see me like that. Maybe it’s old age, I don’t know. But the thought of you having to hold my hand because I can’t on my own. It’s too much.”

“I guess this is your problem, Dean.” Castiel smiled as if they were back to being high school lovers. “You never let me take care of you. I want to worry and I want to help. I need you to let me in, Dean. This show you’re putting on sets us even further apart. Let me in. Drop your façade. I know the real you.” He palmed Dean’s cheek, bringing their foreheads together. “Please. I want you to come back to me. To let me love you as I could’ve – as I should’ve for the past months that I was away. I am so sorry for the pain I’ve caused you.”

“And I, you.” Dean whispered brokenly. Castiel giggled.

“Just like you, Dean. My light. Why have I been so unattentive?”

“Why have I been a walking disaster?”

“Guess we need each other.”

“We do.” Agreed Dean. “I certainly need you. I am still in love with you. After everything.”  
“I have always been, sweetheart.” Dean kissed Castiel fiercely, pouring into that one kiss everything, his frustration, his sadness, his doubts but most of all his relief. Relief at finally getting through his thick skull that he is loved and that however far they may be from each other nothing could break them. Not even scorned lies, not even doubts and not even a lost heart.

“Cancel your plane ticket.” Castiel said, jumping off the bench and wiping his tears away. He took Dean by the hand and led him back to the hotel.

“Why? What do you have in mind?”

“Only the best date ever,” Castiel squealed, excitedly. “Come on. I’ll pick you up at five.”

“What are you going to do until then?”

“I was thinking room service and some cuddles, but if you have any suggestions, I’m all ears.”

“Sounds good. Lead the way.” With a heavy heart, they made their way out of the park.

***

The cold bit into his cheeks with a sadistic pleasure. Dean cursed himself for always wanting to be a step ahead and, in this case meaning coming out with half an hour before they were supposed to start their date. The frostbite that threatened him was still better than pacing endlessly in his little room.

The uneasiness was on its way out of Dean’s system and he could finally breathe without feeling that rock on his chest called “stress” or how Dean liked to call it “The bitch”. He reasoned with himself whenever his brain started running by itself. How could he still doubt himself even after talking to Castiel and setting everything straight?

“I see I’m not the only perfectionist present.” Castiel grinned, exiting the hotel. He looked beautiful. He was wearing a black suit, paired with a button up clear white shirt and a blue tie that worked wonders in bringing out his blue eyes. Castiel greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and side hug, right before a black limousine pulled up in front of the hotel. Castiel jumped to open the door for Dean. They got in, ignoring the few cameras that got whiff of Castiel’s sudden outing. Dean appreciated Castiel’s uncaring behavior towards them. They were silent almost the whole ride to the restaurant, except for Castiel’s compliments concerning Dean’s outfit and Dean, in general. He smiled and returned them with the honesty. Castiel was the most beautiful man he had ever seen and every single time he looked at him he was reminded the warmth and good grace behind a face just as stunning. Dean smiled fondly at his husband.

“Thank you for tonight.” Dean said.

“You’re thanking me already? We haven’t even got to the restaurant. That must mean I haven’t lost my charm.”

“Not even close.” Dean responded, kissing him slowly, sweetly, gently. Castiel intertwined their fingers and their hands lay like that the rest of the ride, assuring both of them that they were, even after years, it for each other. They have reached the restaurant faster than Dean had hoped. They got out and Dean was instantly blinded by the intrusive flashes of the camera-men. As disorientated as he became, Castiel was there to guide him by his hand into the restaurant, minimizing the damage.

“I apologize for their existence. I hoped my driver could’ve lost them on our way, but they’re cunning minions.”

“It’s going to be fine. Maybe it will even be fun. We could improvise some costumes on our way out. You know, just to lose them.” Dean winked at him.

“Aren’t you a devious devil?”

“Anything for my angel.” Dean said taking off his coat. Castiel eyed him with a somewhat hidden hunger. Dean found that a good look on his husband, so he continued the game by putting on the face of total innocence.

They were led to their table in a quiet, dark corner of the restaurant. They were seated on a silk pumped up couch with gold details. They ordered and Dean found himself hungry for the first time in a few days.

“I’m starving.”

“My food lover is back.”

“He is,” Dean agreed. “And I’ve never been more glad. This moments remind how I’ve missed you.”

“No more missing each other, ok? Trust me. We’re on a good track.” Dean smiled and then the mood was lightened by Castiel sharing some of his experience, from being tricked by Balthazar to eat frog legs, which tasted exactly like chicken to the whole band bickering in the middle of the night about the stage positioning and Michael and Rachel calling a certain manager about not having enough bubbles in their sodas while high of their asses. Dean listened with interest and everything became exactly how he knew it. Dean and Castiel being themselves, a couple of dumbasses. The stories alternated and Dean shared some of his own about making Adler, his ignorant boss bite his tongue when Dean proved himself more suited to be the face and voice of Sanders even if he was not in charge, about getting slightly drunk on his plane ride to Castiel, about the neighbours stealing Castiel’s favorite garden decoration and Charlie and himself deciding to do the mature thing and go in the middle of the night to take what was rightfully theirs and committing an even bigger theft, stealing Snow White from her seven freaking minions and planting her face first in Owen’s lawn. Castiel laughed thoroughly and so they ate the first course and the second and the dessert was a chocolate mouse, which they shared, noting Castiel’s silent promise for pie later. Dean’s heart was piecing itself back together. To be fair Castiel was pieceing his heart together, the best he knew how.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Dean said with a crimson blush decorating his cheeks.

“And where would we go?” Castiel looked intrigued, but also terrified.

“I also made some plans for us for tonight, hope you don’t mind. I knew you would go for this classy atmosphere so I thought some kind of after party would be just what we needed to end this already successful date night,” Dean explained himself. Castiel offered a warm smile and taking Dean by the hand he told him to lead the way. Dean suggested they take the back exit and offered the waiter a tip for keeping his silence regarding the direction they were about to take. The sun was about to be replaced by the luminous, yet mysterious moon and it cast its most beautiful orange pink rays, enveloping the whole city in a light that invited you to see the beauty laying all around. They walked slowly and talking about everything and nothing. It felt just like college again. No worries, just hopes and butterflies. Dean was holding his suit jacket by the hanger over his shoulder while Castiel carried it on his forearms.

“Are we almost there?”

“Not yet.” Dean beamed when he saw Cas’ fake pout.

“I sincerely hope your bright idea was taking me out for some ice cream. I’m dying for the chocolate mint one.”

“Dude, you’ve just had dessert.”

“Not the one I really wanted,” Castiel answered, his tone hinting, as usual, to something deeply erotic.

“Come on. I think we’ll have fun either way.”

“I know we will.” Dean watched the rays hug Castiel’s face and lightning graceful details that came into contact to create the angelic form of his husband.  
“We’re here.” Dean finally announced.

“What is this?”

“Tooth Fairy's house. What does it look like?” Dean deadpanned.

“It looks like a bar.” Castiel answered, his eyes searching the outside of the place. The music was so loud that even outside you could get a pretty good experience of what was going on inside. It looked like a combination between a nightclub and classic bar. Dean got them inside smoothly. The place was crowded with people of all ages and preferences and inhibitions seemed to be nothing but a frightful myth in there where everyone seemed to be forgetting themselves in favor of loosening up and letting themselves find solace in the arms of strangers. Dean wanted to get on the dancefloor and finally let himself loose but the anxiety and doubt made him come to a half. Castiel must’ve noticed Dean’s hesitation as he squeezed his shoulder and took his hand in his and guided them in the middle of the crowd. When they were blended in enough for both of their liking, Dean started paying attention to the music and, more importantly to the beat of the current song. Dean was a classic rock lover but in an atmosphere like that even he was going to let himself be swept up by the music no matter the genre. His hips started moving, following the beat and as soon as he felt confident enough he glued himself to his husband and ran his hands through his raven black hair urging him to shadow Dean’s movements. With tentative hands, Castiel set his arms around Dean’s waist, while his hands were locked behind his lover’s neck.

“I almost forgot how tempting you could be, when you wanted to,” Castiel murmured in his ear, slightly biting the shell of his ear. He whimpered slightly, but kept his head in the game. The pace slowed a bit, but Dean continued to move his body, reaching the level of a true stripper.

“I’m afraid I do not know what you mean.” When Castiel’s low chuckle reached his ears, he continued. “Keep moving, Castiel. You are beautiful.”

“Then you certainly haven’t seen yourself, sweetheart. You make me mad with want,” Castiel growled, kissing Dean hot and dirty. They continued kissing in a crowd full of stranger, coming a closer to one another as possible, getting to a point where the moves turned into a subtle grind as both of them started becoming restless and in need of the other.

“I want you,” Castiel muttered.

“You have me. Take me,” Dean responded, feeling Castiel’s hard member against his leg and also becoming aware of how much he missed it.

“You’ll have to wait. You want to play dirty. I can play even dirtier. Believe me, you’ll be begging.” Dean groaned, letting his head fall back, losing himself in everything that meant Castiel and their attraction to each other.  
“I love when I see such public displays of sexual frustration,” The remark was spoken loud and clear in Dean’s ear and he flinched. They parted and Castiel must’ve heard it too because his look spoke of pure disgust and anger. Dean turned around to see a guy that couldn’t have been older than 23-25 years old, with sunglasses high up his combed with too much gel, blond hair, tripping over his two left feet. He was reeking of alcohol. Dean’s fists clenched instantly. How dare a child, really, talk to him in such a disrespectful way? And Dean who thought the mentality of the public started making some progress.

“It’s ok.” The douchebag approached Dean. “Nobody gives a shit anymore if you’re a faggot, so you can go back to your groping.” Dean couldn’t stand the sloppy smile the drunk asshole was throwing at him while patronizing him with no shame. Dean was about to put the fucker to sleep if Castiel wouldn’t have held him back. Dean grunted, trying to get out of Castiel’s arms.

“Let me go. He’s a jackass.”

“As much as I agree, you won’t solve anything with a punch.”

“I’m ready to take you up on the offer” came Dean’s witty response.

“It’s not worth it,” Castiel chastised.

“If he doesn’t want you, pretty, maybe I’ll take you.” The bastard grinned at Dean, throwing in a disgustingly toothy smile. Dean’s blood started to boil.

“You are a good judge of character,” Castiel revised his attitude. “Please proceed.” He said as he let Dean go. No sooner did Dean punched the bastard in the jaw, he feel on the floor already asleep. The people around them fixed their eyes on Dean and Castiel, but before Dean could defend his actions. Castiel urged him to make a run for it, before anyone could take any pictures. They exited the bar when the stars made their way up above. They stopped running when they were a couple of streets away from the club to laugh their hearts out while Dean was half wondering if the intense scene was going to give him a stroke.

“I haven’t had this much fun in a while,” Dean said, still sniggering. Castiel was grinning from ear to ear.

“You were badass. Not to mention hot,” Castiel observed. Dean snorted and they started walking at a leisurely pace. They gave their own take on the douchebag and a new fit of laughter started. They walked for some so as they reached the central park and Castiel invited Dean at a prolonged walk and Dean, founding that he was enjoying himself, couldn’t have said no. Their talks about nonsensical stuff was picked up where it left off.

They walked and for an undefined period of time, Dean had forgotten that there was anything on the planet except for them. It felt like he was free, like he do anything and be anyone as long as Castiel was beside him. Their conversation was yet again put on hold when they passed by a group of five – three guys and two girls and one of the dudes – the short one with brown hair and hazel eyes, that was sporting a winter coat as if snow was just about to pour out of the sky – bummed Castiel’s shoulder, sending him back a step. When the guy turned to apologize, he seemed a bit too over excited that the person who he’d bumped with was Castile Novak himself.  
“Cas, dude, what the hell!” squealed the short guy. Dean watched the whole exchange with a confused frown on his face. Not only did the dude seem stoned all the time but he was also putting a on a show too big just for bumping into Cas and he didn’t strike Dean as a fan in particular. As Dean pointed his whole attention to the guy’s, Aaron’s demeanor, Castiel arranged for them to go with the group to the hotel Aaron was checked in for the term of his visit.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Dean let Castiel know, holding him a little bit back. “They're all high as fuck.”

“And how did you figure that out?” Asked Castiel in a kind manner, that Dean only perceived as patronizing.

“I just looked at his face. Wasn’t that hard. You should try it,” Castiel faked an exasperated sigh. 

“Why are we even going with them?”

“I wanted to catch up and Aaron said he had something for me back at his hotel and that he was going to come tonight to give it to me but I might as well unburden him now. Come on. They’re free spirited people. You’ll like them.”

“Fine,” Dean agreed. “But you get whatever he wants to give to you and then we leave. We need to be in schedule as to not be freaking late at your own damned concert.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.” Holding hands, they joined the group and walked together what Dean estimated to be a period between ten and fifteen minutes. Aaron started narrating a story about how he ended up with bedding a dog on a deserted beach in the middle of spring break. Dean had to admit, the dude’s light personality and guts made him easy to bear. They all entered Aaron’s big as hell room and the chicks and the dude plopped down on the couch and the bed, looking dead to the world. Dean snorted at the leisure with which people treated their own lives these days.

 

“Want a joint?” Aaron offered to Castiel as he took off his coat and threw it over the sleeping fellow. Castiel refused politely, but Aaron kept insisting, at which point he became annoying and Dean stepped in just to make sure no more precious time was wasted on another possible jackass.

“Ok, take it easy. Just give the man what you claimed he must have and let us get going.”  
“S-sure,” Aaron babbled. “It’s a mess here. I’ll go look for it.” Dean shook his head in vexation. 

“Here, hold on to this,” Aaron said as he pushed the joint in Dean’s hand and ran away to the other room. Dean remained behind with Castiel, looking like a toddler who’s received a new toy. He hadn’t touched the poison since college when he and Charlie used to get high under the bleachers and then Castiel started to join them and they would get high as kites. Castiel eyed the joint like a piece of candy. Dean was intrigued all the same, but showing would’ve been a sign of weakness.

“Want some?” Dean asked, holding the joint up.

“No,” Castiel pouted. He was a shitty liar and Dean was amused by such behavior.

“Awesome,” he concluded. “More for me.” Decided Dean as he lit it up with a discarded lighter he found on the floor. Castiel eyes were fixed on Dean and his mouth was agape at Dean’s spontaneous choice. He took the first smoke and coughed a bit until he got used to the sensation.

“Won’t you share?” Castiel looked at him, all puppy eyed. Dean smiled to himself. He knew his husband. He took in another pull and motioned for Castiel to get closer. He did as told and Dean grabbed him closer and prayed his mouth open and blew smoke little by little into Cas’ waiting mouth and watched him inhale it all.

“Told you I’m caring,” said Dean taking another puff and giving it to Castiel. Castiel denied it and settle for kissing Dean wildly, plunging his tongue deep in Dean’s mouth and taking his time to coax him to open to him more and more. The joint remained forgotten in Dean’s hand. As the kissed deepened and deepened, Dean started losing his grip on reality. He did open his eyes at one time and as if pinched, he pulled away. There was Aaron with his phone directed at them. Dean left Cas behind and started for Aaron but the guy took a couple of steps back, getting more and more out of Dean’s reach.

“What are you doing, Aaron?” asked Castiel confusedly.

“Getting the new scoop and getting rich.”

“By sending pictures to the press with us and this thing,” concluded Dean as he threw the remains of the joint on the ground and stomped on them aggressively. Even if his sight started tricking him in terms of speed and how many Aarons were actually there, he was pretty sure he could still throw a good punch.

“Don’t take it personal. This will not affect your career in any way, maybe it will bring you even more crazed fans, who knows? A picture like this is worth too much to pass it up.”  
“Jackass,” murmured Dean. He was trying to think straight and even like this a punch didn’t seem the most effective defense.

“It’s ok, Dean. Let him. Do whatever you want with those pics. I couldn’t care less.”

“Cas!” Dean called, scandalized.

“I presume you have nothing you must give me, right?” Aaron just shrugged his shoulders. Castiel nodded defeated. “Let’s go, Dean.” Castiel exclaimed. Dean still couldn’t believe how easily Cas gave up. Dean was looking at them, confused out of his mind. That shit must have been something strong.

“No. Cas, we can’t let him get away –“ Dean started stating his case, but fell to the ground, weakened and heaving.

“Dean! You’re shaking. What’s wrong?” Dean did not respond, but kept trembling and coughing his lungs out. “What was in that?” Castiel turned to Aaron in a fit of anger. The dude seemed to go from confidence to terror in a matter of seconds. He kneeled on the ground next to Dean and Castiel and looked to examine Dean. As he kept fretting beside him, out of his mind with negative possible turn outs of this situation, Dean snatched his phone and stood up. Castiel, seeming surprised at first, gathered quickly what had happened and went by Dean’s side to help him stand up.

“I don’t appreciate lying jackasses.”

“And I don’t appreciate poor actors,” Aaron returned with a face of aversion.

“Not interested in your particular tastes right now.” Then, to Cas. “Let’s get out of here.” Castiel started leading them for the door when Aaron’s group, which had watched their exchange silently, got up to block the door.

“You’re not going anywhere ‘till I have my phone back.”

“How about you bite me,” Dean’s uncensored thoughts slipped out.

“We might be a bit screwed,” Castiel offered. Dean looked around, letting his foggy brain do the work. The room had a terrace.

“Not yet,” Dean said, already feeling an idea bloom up in his mind. “Follow me.” Dean indicated the terrace with his eyes and as understanding dawned on Castiel, they made a run for it. When they reached it, they closed the door and Castiel held the individuals inside as Dean went through Aaron’s phone and with quick fingers and the sight of a drunk cat on crack, deleted every single photo that was taken of them and then deleted the deleted phone from the recently deleted folder. Proud of himself for not being tricked by technology, he gave Castiel the ok.

“Thank you, Dean. But even if we’ve gotten rid of the photos how are we going to leave, without causing a scene with those idiots back there.” As if on queue, hard, loud knocks started raining from the inside of the room. Dean looked around but there seemed to be no escape.

“I got nothing, man,” Dean admitted defeated.

“Think, think.” Castiel chanted to himself.

“It’s not going to do much good. It’s not like we can freaking jump.” Castiel looked out on the terrace. They were at the first floor. Aaron’s fear of heights seemed to be coming in handy.

“Maybe we can.” Castiel spoke hesitantly.

“What?” Dean looked horrified.

“Think about it. We’re as close to the ground as we could possibly be. It’s like going down the slide into the pool.”

“Except there’s no slide and we might die.” Dean pointed out.

“No, look, it’s a short distance. We can make it. It might even be fun.” Castiel encouraged Dean.

“Castiel.”

“I know it’s crazy, but if we could just-“

“It is crazy.” Dean confirmed and Castiel deflated instantly. “Let’s do it.”

“Really?”

“I’m high, man. What do you expect?” Castiel laughed at Dean’s outspoken behavior.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, let’s do it already, before I change my mind.” Castiel only nodded and took Dean’s hand in his.

“Don’t forget to bend your knees,” Castiel advised Dean.

“What?” Dean asked, demented, but Castiel was already taking him down with him as he jumped without any warning. Dean screamed his lungs out as they fell and in no more than two seconds they were swallowed by the ice cold water in the gigantic pool. Aaron finally managed to get the door to the terrace to open and now was looking down at them, appalled. When Dean surfaced he saw Castiel raise his middle finger in Aaron’s face.

They left the hotel, leaving a wet trail behind them. Who needed bread crumbs, when you were a pool of fucking water? Dean kept trying to lamely squeeze the water out of his suit pants. Castiel kept thanking Dean and saying how excited he felt and how amazing it all was.

“And we thought we were getting old.”

“We are getting old, Cas. My numb joints assure me of that.” Dean snapped.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Castile stopped on the side of the road, his hair plastered to his forehead.

“You mean beside us risking our lives like idiots. Not much. Oh no wait, we almost let some idiot paint you as a druggie, but I guess nothing important occurred.”

“Actually, you are the druggie,” Castiel deadpanned.

“Excuse me?” Dean said indignantly.

“You are the high one now, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Dean, are you actually mad?”

“I am furious.” Dean stomped his feet. “If it weren’t for your naivety, we wouldn't be catching a pulmonary disease right now.”

“My naivety, you say,” Castiel said, contemplating Dean’s words. “No, I don’t see it. He was a friend. I just thought –”

“No, you didn’t think Castiel, or you would’ve listened to me when I told we should’ve minded out business.”

“Maybe he couldn’t have taken incriminating photos, if you wouldn’t have provided them. You’re the one put on the show.”

“I wanted to have fun,” Dean defended himself, like a scolded child.

“Well then what are you getting angry about now, beloved?”

“I cannot help but think that is exactly what happened with Michael. You, putting your trust in him and being your naive self, him taking advantage.”

“I’m not a child. I can tell when something’s not right.”

“So how was it that it took an exchange of saliva for you to get Michael’s intention?”

“I saw it as friendly behavior, what Michael was doing. Michael is the newest member and I do understand the need to blend in, the need for acceptance.”

“Are you defending him?” Dean asked, vexed and hurt by Castiel’s understading nature towards Michael. Castiel did not respond.

“You are. Is that it, Castiel? You like him back?” Castiel kept staring at the pavement. “I mean I get it. He is younger, prettier. You guys have stuff in common. I can see it.” Dean raised his voice and Castiel gave no sign of being aware that Dean was having another meltdown at one feet away. Dean started pacing back and forth, like a guy possessed. He considered Castiel’s silence as a conformation of everything Dean has voice. He was murmuring a string of curses. They weren’t mean for Michael, much less for his husband, but for himself. He was at fault, that he could no longer be enough for Castiel.

“For the record, I don’t like him back,” Castiel shouted after him.

“Bullshit, Cas.”

“It’s not,” Castiel assured him.

“I am not enough anymore and I can understand that, but lying to me. That I cannot stand. I want you to be fair with me, jackass. I want to know exactly what you’re thinking. Be it your ugliest thoughts about me or I don’t even fucking – “

“Shut the fuck up.” Castiel smashed his lips onto his into a passionate kiss. “You are the most infuriating person I know,” he said kissing him again.

“You are a freaking child,” Dean countered.

“It’s called being free spirited.”

“No, it’s called being an asshat,” said Dean, crashing Castiel’s lips with his own and plunging his tongue deep into Cas’ mouth, fighting for dominance. Castiel didn’t seem to be backing down. He pushed Dean back, trapping him between the trunk of an old tree and himself. Dean continued kissing him with want clear in his motions.

“You jump to conclusions too fast. Sometimes it’s because of your low self-esteem, but other times you’re just a dumbass.” Castiel offered with smile like they were exchanging gifts. He slothed a leg between Dean’s and offered friction to Dean already hard cock.

“At least I’m not careless about who the fuck wants to plunge their tongue down my throat.”

“It happened once.” Castiel grunted, kissing Dean again and he whimpered in response.

“I hope it doesn’t happen again.” Dean’s voice turned soft, signaling the end of the war and he finally allowed Castile to take control and guide the whole encounter.

“I hope you understand how much I love you.” Castiel responded.

“Gay,” Dean declared. They continued kissing slowly, taking their time in exploring each others’ mouths, making a show of not giving a fuck if anyone was watching or better, taking photos. Everything was perfect until when, in the middle of the kiss, Castiel mumbled something while Dean’s tongue was still in his mouth  
.  
“What?” Dean asked. “I couldn’t understand you. My tongue was too deep down your throat.”

“I said, the ferris wheel.” Castiel repeated, pointed at a stream of lights rising behind the great crowns of the robust trees. “Come on. One last stop.” Castiel nodded towards the carnival and they started walking steadily enjoying the night and each other. The walk was way shorter than they expected. When they reached the carnival, they were surprised to see how many people could still appreciate the beauty of a well made carnival. Castiel led them straight to the ferris wheel and paid for the tickets, his excitement being contagious, having Dean all smiley, like and idiot, ignoring his fear of heights only because of Castiel’s enthusiasm. The ride was unhurried and they took their time to relish in the magnificence of the moment. Castiel waited the perfect moment to kiss Dean – right when they reached the top of the wheel. Castiel whispered praises and caressed Dean’s blushing cheeks as he kissed him tentatively, at first, and then gathering courage, more forcefully and Dean took it all, reminiscent of their early years, he realized how old they have gotten, but how they were still able to be the same goofy and savage couple that they were in college. The realization concluded Dean’s night and the best date ever.

“You’re shaking,” Castiel observed.

“I’m happy,” Dean concluded, all goofy smile and dole eyed.

“I am glad. However, it doesn’t tell me why you’re shaking.”

“I’m still wet, asshat. I think the cold might’ve infiltrated my bones.”

“Come on, then. Let’s find us some clothes.”

“How the hell are we going to do that?” Dean asked, incredulous. Five minutes later he was stuffed in a complete cowboy outfit, while Castiel was the least scary clown Dean has ever laid eyes on.

“I hope I made the right choice. I know about your infatuation with the Wild West.”

“That’s really sweet of you, but let’s get going. We need to be there in time for your concert.”

“The fucking concert.” Castiel remembered. “No need to revert to such human necessities.” Castiel assured Dean went out into the street and waved whenever he saw a taxi.

“Necessity as in walking?” Dean asked. “Come on, Cas. We’re going to waste more time with the taxi, then walking. We walked until now.”

“Yes, Dean. But this is the end of our date and I need to escort you to the best concert you’ve ever seen in sweetest ride.” Castiel looked scandalized, like a child whose toys have been taken away with him.

“I’m not sure how you can call a taxi ‘the sweetest ride’. Cas, I’m serious. We can even make a run for it.”

“Plus you look ridiculous.” Castiel added. That made Dean come to a halt.

“Cowboys are classics. Clowns on the other hand, not so hot. Maybe you’re worried about your asshole-ish replacement costume, I mean.” Dean grinned, knowing that he already won the fight.

“I’ll have you know that clowns are the main object of entertainment.”

“Yeah, Sam is still entertained from that freaking encounter in sixth grade. You know he can’t even watch Jojo’s circus, right?”

“Your brother is a special case.”

“As am I.” said Dean, coming closer and planting a good-natured kiss on his lips before starting running through the park, calling for Cas. “Race ya’!” Castiel thought it ridiculous, a man in his early thirties, in a freaking cowboy suit, running through the park like freaking Tarzan.

“Why do I ever listen to you?” shouted Castiel as he started to follow Dean’s run.  
“Cause you love me,” Dean responded immediately. “And I might be still a bit high so you should make sure I get there ok.”

“Wait! What? Dean slow down, hold on!” but Dean only laughed harder at his inquiries and ran even faster.

“I’m not falling for your act, mister. Not again.”

***

With Dean’s erratic and run, they manage to get to the concert ten minutes before they were supposed to enter the stage. They went into Castiel, led by a crowd a people that looked a beat away from having a heart attack. Everyone was doing something and it was nothing, if not nauseating.

Castiel showered and put on his clothes in less than seven minutes, which gave the make up another two minutes to work their magic. Castiel threw a glance and a warm smile in Dean’s direction every now and then and Dean mirrored his husband, trying to be as supportive and look as proud of him as he could which was not all that hard, giving Dean’s infatuation with him.

“Aren’t you at least a bit nervous?”

“Now that you’re here, I can feel some of those butterflies flying around but, generally, no.” 

They exited the room and ran to the stage. Castiel was given a microphone and was told that everyone took his position on stage. The crowd was cheering and, at some point, they all became one voice chanting three words “The fallen ones”. Castiel looked at Dean and he seemed to be even more nervous than the singer himself so he gave him a sweet peck on the lips.

“I love you,” Dean said.

“I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be right here, waiting for you,” Dean assured him.

The concert was a complete success. From the moment Castiel came on stage the screams grew and the restlessness seemed to settle, only to start again with the first song. Castiel gravel like voice carried every song with tenderness and enthusiasm, paired with a kind of freestyle dance that had everyone on their toes, watching every single swing of his hips, every lick of his lips and every hair adjustment that he carelessly made. Dean could see where everyone was coming from with their love for Castiel. He looked god like, up there on stage, singing with the voice of an angel and dancing with the moves of a devil. Dean was truly absorbed by the show Castiel was putting. Every song was interpreted with the same fire and everyone was entranced, so when the people behind the stage started talking into their headphones and announcing the last song of the night, Dean was stupefied. Castiel threw shy glimpses at Dean as if to check if he was still there, and Dean grinned at him, letting him through a single expression that everything was fine and that it was going great. Time flew past him and he had taken no notice, amazed by Castiel’s talent and love that was poured in every gesture and every note on scene.

“Thank you for being here. It means the world to us that so many people came. So many people give a shit man, it’s almost scary,” Castiel joked and the audience giggled, approving of everything that was said up there. Castiel turned back to him and motion for him to come up there. At first, Dean thought it to be a mistake.

“Me?” he asked incredulous. Castiel only nodded and one, particularly scary chick, pushed him from behind, telling him that it is him that Castiel wants up there with him. Dean took the few steps to get on stage. The lights were blinding as were all the cameras pointed at the stage. Dean experience a bit of stage fright even if all he had to do was look pretty. Castiel presented him to the public and everyone cheered even louder. Dean waved awkwardly and turned back to Cas.

“Hey, sweetheart,” greeted Castiel.

“What is all this?” asked Dean smiling  
.  
“Well, I love you,” Castiel said, waving energetically at the crowd who managed to make a lot of inhuman noises. “And I thought what better way to end the night than me telling you one more time that you it for me, Dean. My everything. I love you.” Castiel kissed him as the band made their way out of stage and the audience started, literally, screaming. “Come on, I think we’ve riled them up enough.” Castiel led him out after saying goodbye one more time ad thanking everyone for showing up.

***

This time they really took the taxi. They were both in the back seat and Castiel got closer and closer to him, pressing his soft lips against Dean’s and igniting the flame that Dean found was still there somewhere just waiting for Cas. They started kissing in earnest.

“And now for the best part of the night,” Castiel murmured, kissing gently.

“I thought you said the night ended.”

“Miscalculation on my part,” shrugged his husband. “I almost forgot what I promised you at that bar.” The words reminded Dean of a very hot and bothered Castiel whispering profanities in Dean’s ear.

“Cas,” Dean called, already feeling warm all over and in need of his beautiful husband.  
“Not a word, sweetheart.” Castiel censured Dean and then kissed him, furiously, leaving no room for breathing. The ride was way slower when Dean was trapped in an endless cycle of kisses and denied the hands of husband. Dean groaned internally and fought himself to not let the whimpers and pleading escape his throat.

“You’re doing so well. I can already see you so hard for me, so bothered. Like I said, you’ll be begging.”

“Please,” said Dean, hiding his face in Castiel’s neck, partly to stay clear of the prying eyes of the driver and also to be able to repay his loving husband for the unattended hard on he was sporting. He nipped at his neck, sucked and licked and bit and just dared Castiel to shudder, to lose control. His lover did no such thing but kept his eyes on the road, thanking the driver when they arrived and leaving him a very generous tip. Dean was cooled out when the air of the night his boiling skin. Castiel led them into his room and, unable to keep their hands off each other, the excessive groping and grunting started the moment the elevator doors closed shut. Castiel was doing everything possible to hold back while Dean was letting his instincts, his need run wild, moaning and whimpering in Castiel ear, all to get him to let loose. Castiel all but carried Dean to their room, keeping himself in check even as Dean started kissing him and grinding on him, feeling his restrained erection. The moment they were sheltered in their room, just the tow of them. Castiel threw Dean on the bed and made a show of taking his black leather jacket and his shirt off. As miles of smooth skin were revealed to Dean, the need for them to be close became unbearable.

“Please, Castiel.” His husband smirked and, like a predatory cat, followed Dean onto the bed, draping himself over him and taking off his cowboy vest and the white shirt. They were both naked from the waist up, kissing and grinding and Dean just couldn’t take it anymore. Every touch brought him closer and closer to complete madness.

“Fuck me! I need you,” Dean grunted, when Castiel was nipping at the navel line. Dean ran his fingers through Cas’ hair and pleaded some more.

“You know what I want to hear, beautiful. Say it and we’re good to go.” Explained Castiel with a mischievous smile.

“I – please, Cas. I want you to fuck me. I need it. I need you. Please.”

“I want to hear you, beloved,” Castiel said, going back to leaving a trail of aggressive hickeys all over Dean’s body.  
“I love you,” Castiel showed his approval with a grunt, but Dean realized that it was a losing battle so even if his ego suffered, he said it. “I’m yours.” Dean murmured sensually. Castiel stopped his ministration and came back so their bodies were aligned perfectly.

“I didn’t hear you. Did you-”

“I’m yours, Castiel. All yours, all for you.”

“That’s right, sweetheart. And I am to cherish and worship this body forever.” Castiel said, giving Dean a kiss that seemed layered with meanings – from the leisure of it, “I’m here.”, from the tenderness of it, “I love you.”, from the depth of it, “I’m not going to leave you” and from the passion of it, “I’m yours.”.

Dean melted under Castiel’s touch. He was taken apart and then put back together. When their pants came off, Dean felt he had never experienced greater relief. It was still impossible to compare it with the moment Cas took both of their underwear off and left them naked to feel and touch each other in a madness of limbs and affection, coated by a deep desperation to be as close to one another as humanly possible. Dean hums and reaches out to put his hands around Castiel’s shoulder, dragging him down, even closer to him. The kissing continued, changing its pace rather frequently, going from passionate to dirty and back in a matter of seconds. When Dean started to become aware of his imminent need for release did he start talking again.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“It’s been too long, Dean. I want to savour this. I want you to be prepared, I don’t want to hurt –”  
“You’re not going to hurt me, Castiel.” Dean said, massaging the back of Cas’ head as he stared deep into those blue eyes. “I want you to take me.” Dean said, biting Cas’ shoulder, wanting to taste the beautiful, smooth skin of his lover. “What are you waiting for? I’m your to take.” 

Castiel’s eyes darkened and dived into Dean’s mouth, undulating his hips just the right way so their dicks could get as little friction as possible. Dean threw his head back in a shoe of exasperation and frustration.

“Castiel.” But Cas was listening no more as he stretched over Dean and took from the nightstand a bottle of lube. Dean thought about some witty remarks that he could make but he abandoned the idea quickly as he watched Castiel coat his fingers with the lube and check Dean out with hooded eyes. With his hand soaked in the cold liquid, it proves easy for Castiel to slide the first finger in. Dean hissed. Partly because of the cold and because of the intrusion. For a second he felt embarrassed for being so weak, but he reason with himself that it has been way too long since he has done it. The sensation crosses from weird to pleasurable fast enough and Dean is already pushing back and pleading for more.

Castiel, never one to refuse, slips a second finger inside, scissoring and spreading them slowly, reaching as deep as he and taking care to not hurt Dean but create as much satisfaction as possible. It’s safe to say, the sounds Dean made were close to inhuman. He took out his fingers slowly, leaving Dean empty and cold. He scooped some more lube and plunged his fingers back inside, adding a third one. Dean keened in response as Cas coaxed more and more sounds from him. His movements became uncoordinated, pleasure clouding his judgement.  
Castiel could probably see the moment his fingers weren’t enough for Dean anymore, his need and desperation clear in the muscular ridges of his front, in the irregular move of his limbs, pushing back on his fingers, throwing his head back on the pillow, mewling and whimpering for more. Castiel’s hard on was a pretty consistent proof of the heavy task that Cas had at hand – keeping himself in check long enough to bring to fruition their eventful night.

Castiel gathers a bit more lube to spread it over his cock, reaching for Dean to give him one more kiss and then, supporting himself with one hand, he uses the other to guide himself inside Dean. When he can feel the tip of his cock nudging at Dean’s entrance, he moves the other hand up to lay it on the other side of Dean’s head. Dean looks up at him in expectation, but doesn’t say a word.

“Are you comfortable?” Dean nodded. Oh, where did the days they were able to fuck anytime and anywhere go? “Are you sure? I want you to be ok,” Castiel pressed, the worry lines appearing on his forehead.

“I’m fine.” Dean assured him, planting an innocent kiss on his parted, spit slicked lips. “Let’s do it cowboy.” Dean urged him, locking his hands behind Cas’ head. Castiel started to push slowly yet surely inside. Dean hid his crimson colored face in the crook of Castiel’s shoulder, muffling a moan. He gave Dean every now and then, some time to adjust and while it was true that Castiel was too big for it to be comfortable from the beginning, Dean enjoyed the pain just as much as the pleasure that followed. When Castiel was fully seated, he gave both Dean and himself time to adjust to the overload of of sensation, looking like he was barely holding back the fire that he usually displayed. Dean understood perfectly Cas fear of hurting him, of ruining the moment and his uncertainty, but Dean was ready and he wanted Castiel to stop holding back.

“Stop holding back, baby,” Dean whispered sweetly. “I’m ready.” Dean tightened around him and gave his hips a decisive twist. “Fuck me good, baby,” Castiel breathed heavily. Dean thought his caution close to ridiculous and he was about to try again, when Castiel looked him in the eyes, grinning like a dumbass. He immediately pulled out completely and slammed right back into Dean. Dean screamed in pleasure and held on for dear life as Castiel thrust hard into him. Dean mewls and moans are driven by Castiel’s pace picking and slowing down, alternating between two rhythms – agonizingly slow and explosively fast. Castiel relocated his arms on Dean’s hips holding him in place as he ground back into Dean, hitting his prostate each time and Dean losing himself each time between murmured profanities, fiery kisses and rough thrusts. Dean felt himself coming closer and closer to the edge. For a couple of seconds, he just looked at his lover and watched him grind and twist and thrust maniacally, moaning in pleasure.  
“Cas. Castiel.” Dean called. He lifted his head just barely, his eyes wild with lust. He repositioned his arms by Dean’s head and as felt himself falling over the edge, he said fondly.  
“My everything.” As Dean drowned in nameless pleasure and chaotic emotions, he felt Cas’ hips stutter and come to half as he emptied his cock in Dean’s ass.  
“I love you.” Castiel said as he pulled out of him. Dean beamed at him and closed his eyes just for a second, trying not to doze off.

***

When the night was truly over, Dean found he couldn’t stop smiling. The weight was lifted off his chest and he felt finally like breathing was a burden no more. Tangled in the sheets beside his lover, he felt as if nothing could make him happier.

“I love you too” Dean said fondly.

“I know. Was your trip how you’ve imagined?”

“Even better,” answered Dean while dropping a delicate kiss on his husband’s lips.

“At what time does our flight leave tomorrow?”

“12:45.” Supplied Dean. “Wait, our flight?”

“Oh, yes. I must’ve forgot to mention. I’m cutting the tour short. I’m coming home, sweetheart.” 

Castiel’s eyes glinted of happiness. Dean jumped off the bed, almost breaking his feet, not believing a word the bastard was saying to him and then jumped back on to kiss the bastard. Fuck him for being so in love.


End file.
